CHAPTER VIII.
RESERVATIONS.
Eric entered; he did not venture to look at Sonnenkamp; he dreaded every word he might have to say to him; for every thought that Sonnenkamp expressed to him, everything which his thoughts had touched on, seemed to him polluted. But now as he fixed his gaze upon him, Sonnenkamp seemed to be transformed, as if he had by some charm contracted his powerful frame. He looked so modest, so humble, so childlike, smiling there before him. He informed Eric, in a quiet tone, that the Prince had seen fit in his graciousness to invest him with a title of nobility, and was soon to deliver him the patent confirming it with his own hand.
Eric breathed with still greater difficulty, and could not utter a word.
"You are surprised?" asked Sonnenkamp. "I know the Jewish banker has been refused,—and I even think—the gentlemen are very shrewd—I even think—however, it doesn't make any difference; every one works his own way. I know also that a certain Doctor Fritz has been at the philanthropist Weidmann's, and that he has spoken a good deal of slander about a man whom I unfortunately resemble—isn't it so? I see it in your countenance. I hope, however, that you will not—no, be quite at ease, my dear, good friend; rejoice with me and for our Roland."
Eric looked up now freely. There is certainly some mistake here, for the man could not be so composed, if he had anything to dread.
Sonnenkamp continued:—
"You will remain our friends, you and your noble mother."
He held out his hand; now again Eric shuddered all over. The ring on his thumb—is that too a mystery, a deception? Sonnenkamp could not but feel that there was something wrong; he suddenly drew back the outstretched hand, as if a wild beast had extended its claw towards it, but said with great composure:—
"I know you are an opposer of election to the nobility."
"No; more than that, I wanted to say something," interposed Eric; but Sonnenkamp interrupted him hastily.
"Excuse me if I do not wish to hear any more."
Suddenly shifting the conversation, he continued in an earnest tone, saying that Eric had now only the finishing stroke to put to his work, by guiding and fortifying Roland into a true appreciation of his new position and his new name.
"It would be a fine thing if you should take the Professorship; I would then let Roland, until we ourselves moved into town, and perhaps even then, occupy the same residence with you; you would remain his friend and instructor, and everything would go on excellently."
With great frankness, he added, that he desired, since he, as a father, was not in the position to see to it himself, that Roland should be wisely and discreetly led to a personal knowledge of that thing which men call vice; this alone would preserve him from excess.
Eric remained silent; he had come with warnings, and full of anxiety; now the whole affair was ended, now nothing remained to be done; yes, through Sonnenkamp's own acknowledgment that he was mistaken for Herr Banfield, every objection seemed to be put at rest. For the sake of saying something, Eric asked where the Major was. With great satisfaction, Sonnenkamp replied that the building of the castle had fortunately so far progressed, that they would be able on their return from the capital to open it; the Major had just gone to the castle to make the necessary arrangements.
"Have you seen your mother yet?"
"No."
"She has, I am sorry to say, sent word to me that she is a little unwell, and will not be able to partake in our rejoicing."
Eric hastened to his mother. He had never yet seen her ill; now she lay exhausted on the sofa, and was delighted at his returning so immediately upon the reception of her letter. Eric knew nothing of any letter, and heard now, also for the first time, that Sonnenkamp had sent a messenger, to whom his mother had also given a letter.
His mother, who was feverish, said that she felt as if a severe sickness was threatening her; it seemed to her as if the house in which she was, was floating on the waves nearer and nearer to the sea; she had to force herself to keep awake, for as soon as she closed her eyes, this sensation returned to her more frightful than ever. She sat up and said:—
"Now you have come back, everything will be well once more. I felt timid alone here in this perverse world."
Eric felt that it was impossible to tell his mother anything of what he had learned at Weidmann's.
His mother complained:—
"Ah, I wish it may not be with you as it is with me; the older I become, the more mysterious and complicated are many things to me. You men are fortunate; individual things do not vex you so much, because you can see a united whole."
As the mother gazed confusedly about her she looked upon her son, and her eye sank; she would willingly have imparted her trouble to him; but why burden him when he could do no good? She kept it to herself.
Eric told her of the interesting life he had seen at Mattenheim, and how fortunate he had been in gaining there a fatherly friend. In the way in which he described the energetic activity of the family, it seemed as if he were bringing a fresh breeze into the room; and the mother said:—
"Yes, we forget in our troubles that there are still beautiful, harmonious existences in the world for a maiden like Manna." And just as she mentioned her name, a messenger from Manna came with the request, that the Professorin would come to her.
Eric wanted to say to the messenger in reply, that his mother was unwell, and to ask Fräulein Manna therefore to have the goodness to come to her; but his mother sat erect, and said:—
"No, she requires my assistance; I must be well, and I am well. It is best that my duty saves me from yielding to this weakness."
She got up quickly, and said to the messenger:—
"I will come."
She dressed hurriedly, and went with her son to the villa.